He shook his head in disbelief. Rubbing the fingers of both hands beneath his eyes, he held the pose, drawing the grey windows of his soul into narrow, curved slits. “No,” he said, as though to himself. “No.” Logan let his hands fall, his fingers stroking the side of Hana’s neck and tracing a line across her shoulder in retreat. An electric current passed through her, earthing itself to the floor through her stomach and snaking down her inner thigh. Logan reached the front door and unlocking it, he turned back to her. “You know where to find me, Hana. I love you and I’ve spent the last twenty-six years in love with you. This isn’t about me or Caroline, but about you. I know what past hurts do, Hana. They cloud your judgement, lie to you and make you run.” Logan waved his hand in her direct
